


I Remember You

by AlyKat



Category: Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Summer Camp, Campers turned Counselors, First Kiss, First Love, Kid Clint Barton, Kid Fic, Kid Phil Coulson, M/M, Summer Camp, Teen Clint, Teen Phil, Teen Romance, Teenagers, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-03
Updated: 2013-07-03
Packaged: 2017-12-17 13:15:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/867954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlyKat/pseuds/AlyKat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: Imagine your OTP meeting as kids at a summer camp and becoming best friends. At the end of the summer, they are sad because they think that they will never meet again. Imagine them as teenagers, going back as camp counselors and falling in love.<br/>-------------------------------</p>
<p>Camp Eagle Bluff was everything a little boy could hope it to be. A huge lake for swimming and fishing. Trails for hiking and trees to sneak off and climb to as high as they could reach. Ghost stories around a campfire and building friendships that campers swore would last a lifetime. But like all summer camps, the season came to an end and those friendships faded into the cool haze of fall and school supply shopping.</p>
<p>Camp Eagle Bluff was different though. It was someplace special and magical. A calling in the wind that brought two former campers back to its lake and trails and campfires years later, to rekindle the spark it had started to light all those years before.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Remember You

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Marvel's toys, I'm just playing with them. Don't worry, they're in good hands. 
> 
> Note: There is a very brief, very innocent kiss between a nine-year-old and a ten-year-old. It's very much like the first kiss Vera and Thomas J shared in "My Girl". I didn't tag it as underage cuz it's basically like little Precious Moments figurines sharing an innocent first kiss. Nothing sexual in the least bit. If you still think that's gonna squick you out, uhm, I'm sorry. 
> 
> Also very big thank you to Selori for whacking the first draft of this thing into shape, and the second. Also to Ralkana for taking a third stab at it and catching things that hadn't been caught the first few times around! You're both awesome! Thank you so much!!

Ten-year-old Phillip J. Coulson sighed as he looked around the vast surroundings of trees and lakes and mountainsides. That’s how his dad had described it at least. Plenty of fresh air and room for a boy to run and jump and play. To learn some new, useful skills and get his nose out of those damned comic books.

Phillip was bookish and small for his age. His skin was too pale from spending far too many summers cooped up in his room or hiding places, flashlight in hand and tearing through stacks of comics and adventure stories like there was no tomorrow. He didn’t have many friends to play with back home in Chicago. Okay, so, he didn’t have any friends to play with back home in Chicago. Which was one of the many reasons his dad had decided shipping him clear off to the Catskills Mountains in New York state would be a good idea.

“You’re gonna love it here, Phillip,” Kevin Coulson said. His tone was gruff but as cheerful as he could make it as he dropped his hand onto his young son’s shoulder, nearly causing him to fall flat on the ground. “I came here every summer from the time I was seven until I was seventeen. And then did another year as a counselor. Camp Eagle Bluff is just what a boy like you needs.”

“Yes, sir.” Phillip’s voice was quiet, his bright gray eyes peering out from under his carefully combed thin brown bangs. In his head he was already hearing all the things the other campers would soon be calling him, all the names and taunts he’d heard back home on the playgrounds and when teachers’ backs were turned.

Three full weeks of a living hell. Not how he’d wanted to spend his summer.

A far more gentle hand came to rest on his other shoulder, drawing his attention back to the parents standing on either side of him. His mother’s smile was sweet and reassuring as she reached to smooth down his flyaway hair.

“Now, Phillip,” she started, voice just as gentle as her touch, “I want you to try and have a good time, okay? I packed your flashlight, and some extra batteries, but please don’t use them all up reading all night. There’re snacks in the bottom of your backpack. Make sure you keep the baggy zipped shut tight so the bugs don’t get in, and try to share some with the other boys. Your first aid kit is in your duffel.” She paused and stooped down low to whisper in his ear, even if it was a stage whisper, “I put Captain Bear in your sleeping bag when I rolled it up so he’s there when you go to bed tonight.”

“Oh for God’s sake, Stephanie. The boy is ten years old. He shouldn’t still be sleeping with a damn teddy bear.”

“It’s his first time away from home, Kevin. I wanted him to have something familiar in case he got homesick.” Bright blue eyes quickly turned back to Phil as a gentle hand reached out to cup his cheek. “And if you do get homesick, there’s nothing to be ashamed of. We’re a phone call away, and if you want us to come get you then all you have to do is--”

“For the last time, we’re not driving all the way back to pick him up if he gets homesick. It’s three weeks. Not even a month. He’ll be fine. This’ll be good for him.”

Phil bit his lip as he ignored his father -- as he so often did -- and looked to his mother, pleading in his eyes.

“Please don’t make me stay here, momma. I promise I won’t spend all summer in my room reading. Just please let me come home?”

Stephanie Coulson smiled her sweet, soft, open smile -- the one Phil had inherited from her but rarely bothered to actually use -- and reached her hand out to smooth his hair and kiss his forehead gently. She pulled him into a tight hug, resting her cheek on his thin little shoulder. “You are going to have so much fun, Phillip. I promise. You’re going to meet all kinds of new people, and make some friends. Look, did you see how pretty the lake is? You’ll get to go swimming in real open water, not the community pool in the park.”

“Keep coddling him like that and he’s gonna wind up being--”

“We love you very much, Phillip. And if you need us, just call. Okay?” His mother sharply cut her husband off, even though Phillip already knew where his father’s sentence was going to end up. He’d heard it enough in the past few years, and was glad his mom had butted in before it could be finished. 

He was about to open his mouth to once again try to beg his way back home when another car came spurting and spitting down the dirt path, wheezing from winding through the mountainside. When it stopped, the dust settling around it, a woman in sea foam green capris and a coral colored tank top stepped out from the driver’s side. She glanced around the campgrounds, readjusted her oversized sunglasses, and moved for the back door. It took a moment of wrestling before a pair of beat-up purple Converse sneakers hit the ground and two flailing arms came into sight. A faded purple ball cap with a darker purple H on the front covered a head full of messy blond-brown hair. The boy scowled up at the woman, yanking his arm from her grasp as he body-slammed the door shut, his arms crossed over his chest defiantly.

“I don’t wanna be here. Why couldn’t Barney come? I wanna go to camp with Barney!”

“We already told you, Barney went to a different camp, and if you keep the attitude up, I’m sure Sgt. Mike would have no problem coming to pick you up and take you to him.”

“Good! That’s where I wanna go!”

All three pairs of eyes from the Coulson’s car stared off in the direction of the newcomer. Phil tilted his head curiously while his mother’s hold on his shoulder tightened just a bit.

“There you go, Phillip. That boy looks to be about your age. Maybe you could be his friend. It looks like he could use one right about now.”

“Oh, yeah. Good, honey. Have him befriend the future juvenile delinquent. He could have stayed home and done that.” 

Phil glanced between both parents before looking back at the new arrival. The woman who had dropped him off was already back in the car and turning it around to leave. A ratty old red duffel bag sat at the boy’s feet with an even sadder looking green sleeping bag sitting atop it. Phil watched the boy kick dirt at the car as it drove off, his arm swiping under his nose before turning to pick his things up and stride off towards the welcome area. As the boy went by, Phil saw the remains of one heck of a shiner hidden under the bill of his cap. No, Phil wasn’t so sure he wanted to be friends with that one.

Phil turned his attention back to his parents, his eyebrows knitted together worriedly.

“ _Mom. Please?_ ”

Kevin shook his head and dropped Phil’s backpack, duffel, and sleeping bag down at his son’s feet. As his hand reached out to pull his wife away from the boy, he ruffled Phil’s hair. “You’ll be fine. Behave yourself. We’ll see you in few weeks.”

Stephanie swooped in for another hug and held Phil tight, kissed his head, and did her best not to cry as she ran her hand down his still slightly chubby cheek. His gray eyes were bright with unshed tears as his mother pulled away from him and moved to climb back into the car. As she rolled the window down, Phil dropped his canteen and ran for the passenger’s side. He just barely swiped his fingers over his mother’s as the car pulled off down the dirt drive and honked their goodbye.

Phil sniffled softly as he watched the car disappear in the light brown haze, sunlight reflecting off its new wax job, until it made it around the curve of the mountain road and vanished completely from sight. He was alone. Completely and utterly alone. He already wanted to go home.

“Okaaaaay, Campers! Grab your gear and head for the pavilion! We’re ready to assign you bunks and bunkers!”

The voice over the PA was bright and cheery, but it did little to lift Phil’s spirits and make him feel less alone. Turning back for his things, he blinked in confusion as he realized his backpack and canteen were already missing. Harsh giggles drifted from the trees as two bigger boys stepped out into sight, one holding the backpack, the other the canteen.

“What’s the matter, Baby Boy? Mommy leave you without a goodbye kiss?”

“Aww, you gonna cry cuz your mommy weft you?”

“Gimme back my stuff.” Phil stared both boys down and took a deep breath, trying to think about what Captain America would do in his place. They were bullies and Captain America didn’t like bullies. Then again, they were also a lot bigger than Phil, and tougher looking too.

“What’cha gonna do, Baby Boy? Cry all over us and go tell?”

If it weren’t for the fact his comic books were in his backpack, he’d just let them keep the stupid thing, same with the crummy old canteen. But those comics were important to him. He’d saved up to buy them each himself. They were his!

Suddenly, as he took a step forward to confront them, the larger of the two -- the one holding his backpack -- stumbled forward, dropping the bag as he tripped. His companion watched with wide eyes as the canteen was yanked from his hands and swung at his head like a mace and chain. The same boy in the silly purple hat from earlier was standing behind the bullies, poised and ready if he needed to defend himself.

“Hey, assbutts! Why don’t you pick on somebody more your own size? Leave him alone.”

Phil scrambled forward, grabbing his backpack before it could be taken from him again and then rushing back to protect his duffel and sleeping bag. The first boy rose to his feet, rocks sticking to a slightly scraped up knee as he forgot about Phil and turned towards the Purple Hat Boy. The two thugs were about to tackle the other boy and give him a pummeling he wouldn’t soon forget when an adult stepped forward and caught them by their arms.

“Whoa whoa whoa, fellas. It’s the first day. C’mon now. Let’s not start off on the wrong foot here, huh? Go get your things and get going to join the others so you don’t miss what tent and tentmate you’ve been assigned.” The counselor clearly was already frazzled as he looked between the four young boys and finally settled on pushing the first two thugs away and down the grassy slope.

Phil ducked his head as he hoisted his backpack onto his shoulders. He held his sleeping bag in one hand and duffel in the other and stepped up to the boy who saved him. There was definitely a black eye hiding under his cap; he could see it once he’d gotten closer. Though, he did just save Phil’s things from untold dangers, so maybe he’d gotten it fighting off bullies too?

“Thanks. Uh...for getting them to drop my stuff.”

“S’ok.”

Phil bit his lip and shifted awkwardly. He tried to move his sleeping bag from one hand to the other so he could shake the other boy’s hand, but wound up whacking him in the knees with it instead. Pink rose up on his cheeks as the blond boy stumbled back a bit, eyes wide before narrowing some and then settling back to normal.

“Hey, I save you from getting your butt kicked and stuff taken and you thank me by attacking me with your sleep gear? Gee golly, you’re welcome, okay?”

A smile slowly started to spread across Phil’s face as he picked up on the fact the boy was just teasing him. It wasn’t the teasing he usually got at school though. This was the kind of teasing one friend would do to another just to raise a fuss.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to.” He paused, licked at his lips and finally got things arranged so he could hold his hand out to the other boy. “My name’s Phillip. Coulson. Uh...but...you can call me Phil, if you want.”

For a long, tense moment, neither boy moved. It was a staredown with Phil’s hand still hanging between them. Finally, just as he was about to pull back, duck his head, and go slinking off, the other boy moved to shake his hand.

“Clint Barton. No short name. Just Clint.”

Phil’s smile could have lit up half of Chicago as he let go of Clint’s hand and hoisted his sleeping bag back into his free hand. Clint lofted his beat up old duffel onto his shoulder, draped Phil’s canteen around his neck, and grabbed up his own sleeping bag as he motioned off down the hill. Phil smiled and carefully maneuvered himself down the slight slope alongside Clint.

“So, you got dumped here too, huh?” Clint asked as they made it to the bottom of the hill. Phil nodded.

“Yeah. My dad said it’d be good for me to get out of the city for a few weeks and go find out what boys my age are supposed to be doing.” To his credit, he managed to say that sentence without rolling his eyes. Too badly, at least.

Clint huffed as he readjusted his duffel. “Well, you can hang out with me, if you want. Maybe together we can find something that’ll make this place suck a whole lot less.”

The smile that could light up half of Chicago turned even brighter as Phil’s eyes sparked with happiness. He finally had a friend. Nodding, he bounced his own backpack on his shoulder. They came to stand at the back of the crowd, hiding among the older boys who didn’t bother to pay them any attention.

“I’d really like that.”

“Cool.” Clint’s ball cap bobbed as he bounced his head up and down. “We could be like, friends or whatever.”

“Really? You...uhm...I mean...okay. Sure. Cool.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Phil saw Clint’s ball cap move as the other boy turned his head to look at Phil. He tilted it back so that he could see better, and there was a small kind of smirky smile playing on the other boy’s face, one that made Phil’s ears turn a shade of pink while he tried so hard to listen to the welcoming spiel from the head of the camp.

As the talk dragged on, Clint dropped his gear to the ground next to him and plopped down to sit on it. It was too hot and muggy to be standing around with other guys -- some of whom definitely had not showered recently -- listening to some old guy ramble on about the history and heritage of the camp. It was boring stuff anyway. Who cared?

Reaching his hand out, he grabbed Phil by the wrist, yanking him to sit down, too. The startled expression on the skinnier boy’s face was definitely worth the glowers and glares they got from the few older boys who actually were paying attention. Lamers. Together, the two whispered back and forth as they played, throwing fistfuls of grass at each other and pretending the twigs they found were swords for fighting with. They were so caught up in their own imaginations that they were oblivious to when it came time for tent assignments to be called.

“Barton, Clinton? Has anyone seen Clinton?”

Clint’s head shot up and in an instant he was on his feet, eyes wide and staring straight ahead.

“Here. I’m here.”

The counselor reading off names squinted against the sunlight before nodding and looking back down to his chart.

“Ah, good. Okay. Clinton, you are in tent number eight with Carlisle, Nicholas.”

Phil’s shoulders dropped as Clint turned to look down at him. Each boy had a disappointed frown as Clint moved to pick his gear up and hoist it onto his back. Lifting his eyes, Phil waved a little as he moved to push himself to his feet and gather his own belongings. He was just pulling his duffel onto his shoulder when the counselor cleared his throat.

“I’m sorry. Actually, Nicholas isn’t able to join us this summer. It looks like your tentmate is going to be...uhm...Coulson? Phillip Coulson.”

Phil’s hand shot into the air as his megawatt smile brightened his face again. “Me! That’s me! I’m Phillip!”

The counselor nodded his acknowledgement and motioned off in the direction Clint had gone. In a heartbeat, Phil had his gear in hand and was half-running, half-stumbling after his newfound friend. The pair shared a wide smile, both glad that they didn’t have to share a tent with someone they didn’t know.

Knocking their shoulders together, Clint motioned with his head to start off and find the tent they’d been assigned for the next three weeks.

* * *

It would have amazed anyone watching from the outside just how easily the two boys fell into sync without even consulting each other. Clint moved to the left side of the tent to lay his things down while Phil went to the right -- Clint because he slept on his right side and liked to have his left arm unobstructed, and Phil because that was the side of the room his bed was on at home and it was just pure habit to move to the right. Clint didn’t want to talk about his home life and Phil didn’t question him on why. Instead they talked about the things they liked to do, the games they played at recess. Clint told him about the slingshot he’d made all by himself and how he was teaching himself to shoot a bow and arrow. Phil confessed that he didn’t have much skill in things like that, but that he could draw pretty okay and his reading level was the highest in his grade.

Their first day together, the boys were inseparable. Where one went, the other was right there with him. They wandered the camp together and poked around in the crafts supply closet, scoping out what they could “borrow” to build their own slingshots back in their tent so Clint could teach Phil how to shoot. When it came time for the campers to end the day and turn in for the night, both were too exhausted to be homesick. They fell asleep easily enough, smiling across the short distance between them at each other in the dark. Phil’s teddy bear was still stuffed in the bottom of his sleeping bag. Where he stayed the entire three weeks.

* * *

After the first day, the weeks seemed to fly right by. All the campers were broken off into “teams” on the second day so it would be easier for everyone to have a chance to do everything. Phil and Clint were put onto the red team and wore their red shirts proudly (even if they did make Star Trek jokes back and forth at each other a lot of the time). They spent their time running around the grounds, building popsicle stick forts to take home with them, learning to tie knots and cross rope bridges, and Phil even taught Clint how to swim. Kind of. In exchange, Clint taught Phil how to defend himself against bullies.

They snuck off during down time, when others were swimming or calling home just to check in, and climbed to the tallest points of trees just to sit and talk and play pretend. Sometimes Phil took his comics up into the tree with them and read to Clint while the other boy swung from the branches. Most times though, Clint sat on the branch next to Phil, chin propped on his shoulder so he could see the pictures of these amazing characters his best friend was so enthralled with.

The boys knew they were different, though neither knew what it was. They could just tell there was something between them not quite like the other boys. Sure, the other fellas had friends they hung out with, and maybe one or two had one person they spent most of their time with, but no one had just one other person in their world like Phil and Clint did. A world that quickly formed an orbit around the other. They sat close during meal time, alone in a little secluded corner of the mess tent away from everyone else; at the camp fires hearing ghost stories about former campers who supposedly got lost in the woods and now haunted them looking for someone to join them on the Other Side, Clint let Phil squeeze his hand if he got too scared. Phil, in turn, let Clint share his bunk on the nights when it stormed or Clint woke up crying from a nightmare.

But, those were just things best friends did, right?

And if there were one or two nights where they snuck out well after curfew and broke into the mess tent (Clint was the one to discover that the lock on the kitchen door was broken and easy to jimmy open) so that Phil could make them both a mug of warm chocolate milk to share to help them fall asleep better because it was what his mom would do for him? Well, no one but old Mrs. Anderson, the grandmotherly head cook, was ever the wiser. And she never said a word, especially after she found them curled up on the floor between the sink and the stove, using each other as pillows and the empty mug sitting between them, one hand from each boy curled around it loosely.

On their last night together, both boys were lying in their respective sleeping bags on the floor of their tent, side by side, heads poking out the back of the tent so they wouldn’t get caught. Their eyes were glued to the sky above them, a dark canvas of stars lit up in a beautiful and mesmerizing silvery-blue. The light from the full moon above them reflected off the glassy lake and made it easy for them to see each other clearly.

“Hey, Phil?”

“Mm?”

“What are your parents like?”

Phil turned his head and blinked in confusion. In the three weeks they’d known each other, neither of them had really asked what the other’s home life was like. 

“Well,” Phil hummed, “my mom’s really nice. You’d like her. She makes the best chocolate chip scones in the world and they go really good with vanilla ice cream. She calls ‘em Lucky Scones, cuz she’d be lucky if she got to have even one.”

“Why?”

“‘Cuz my dad and I eat ‘em all so fast.”

“Oh. What’s your dad like?”

For a long moment, Phil didn’t answer.

“He’s...okay, I guess.” His voice was quiet and uncertain as he spoke about his father. “Sometimes I think he doesn’t really like me. I’m not enough like he was at my age. Not interested in the things he thinks I should be interested in. He thinks my mom spoils me, makes me soft and squishy.”

Clint gave a small laugh as his hand darted out to poke at Phil’s side playfully. “Well yeah! If your mom keeps making you treats and you keep gobblin’ ‘em up, ‘course you’re gonna be all soft and squishy.”

Phil laughed in return, swatting Clint’s hand away to poke at his friend’s stomach. “You’re one to talk!”

“Baby pudge and damn proud of it! I’ll grow out of it eventually.”

“Is that what your parents keep telling you?” It was an innocent enough question, but one that Phil could tell right away was the wrong thing to ask. He could see in the moonlight that Clint’s face closed off, his features falling into a form of scowl.

“No.”

“Oh.” Worrying at his lower lip, Phil turned his eyes back up to the stars and lay quiet for a moment before asking, “What’re your parents like? Your mom sure didn’t seem all that happy to be dropping you--”

“She is _not_ my mom.”

There was a hardness to Clint’s voice that told Phil he’d accidentally hit a nerve and he did his best to try to backpedal to make things right.

“Your aunt?”

“I don’t have an aunt. I don’t have anybody. Michelle just dumped me here cuz she and Frank didn’t wanna hafta deal with me, and they couldn’t provide any evidence of me needing to go to that military camp they sent Barney to.”

It was the first time in three weeks that Phil realized that Clint was an orphan. His lips rolled between his teeth, and he scooted his sleeping bag closer.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

“Don’t matter. Forget it.”

Slowly, Phil’s hand reached out to hold Clint’s, letting the other boy squeeze it like there was no tomorrow. He could see the tears in his best friend’s eyes, the ones he was fighting so hard not to let show. His feelings of pain and heartache at being all alone in the world were evident on his face.

“What was your mom like?” Phil finally asked, his voice quiet and hesitant, not wanting to upset Clint any more than he already had.

“I dunno. I don’t remember really. She died a few years ago. I was just a little kid when it happened. I know she was sad a lot and it made me sad, and that just ticked my dad off so he’d yell and throw things. So I had to try to not let him see when I was sad. Barney used to call me a wimp and a baby.”

“I don’t think you’re a wimp. Or a baby.” Phil said, still holding Clint’s hand in his. “I think you’re brave and funny, and the most best friend I’ve ever had in my whole life.”

Clint turned his head and smiled softly through the semi-darkness.

“I think you’re pretty great too. Definitely the bestest friend I’ve ever had. No doubt about it.”

Phil’s smile was just as soft as he stared back at Clint. Their hands were still clasped inside the tent, shoulders pressed together and barely more than just a few inches between their heads. They lay there, staring at each other for a long moment before Clint finally looked away and back up to the sky above. Neither said a word for the longest time, and Phil was honestly starting to fall asleep when Clint spoke up again.

“Hey Phil? We’re gonna be best friends forever, right? Even when I go back to Shell Rock and you go back to Chicago?”

“You bet’cha.” The wide and open smile was evident in Phil’s voice.

“Good. Cuz when I grow up, I’m gonna marry you.” It was a statement. A decided fact that was spoken surely and confidently into law with nothing more than a sharp nod of the head. Phil, surprisingly enough, never even batted an eye at that declaration.

“Don’t be silly, Clint. Boys can’t get married to other boys.”

“Well why not?”

“Because. Everyone says so. Says it’s bad and wrong and stuff. I dunno.”

A deep scowl crossed Clint’s little face, scrunching his eyebrows together and making his nose wrinkle up in disgust.

"Well then they're stupid. And when I grow up I'm gonna marry whoever I want, even if it's another boy."

For a moment, Phil stayed quiet as he weighed the words that Clint said. Biting his lip, he turned his head just slightly to look over at the other boy. "Me?"

Clint shrugged, but Phil could see the little shy smile he was trying to hide behind a mask of indifference. "Prob'ly. You're my best friend, so yeah."

Phil bit back his big, shy smile and quickly turned his eyes back up towards the sky. The stars and the moon suddenly seemed a whole lot brighter.

“Yeah, okay. But, definitely going to have to be after we grow up. I don’t think my folks would like it too much if I married you right now.”

“ _Now_ who’s being silly? I don’t wanna get married right now. But once we grow up. Like, when we’re nineteen or something. Cuz that’s grown up, right?”

“I think so.”

“Good. Then once we grow up.”

Phil nodded in agreement.

“Once we grow up.”

* * *

The last day of camp was a whirlwind of chaos. Campers who had suddenly lost parts of their gear were running all over trying to locate things. A steady stream of cars, honking and with arms waving out of windows, flowed in and out of the dirt parking lot. Guys were sharing awkward goodbye handshakes and shoulder punches. Some tackled their buddies to deliver a rough noogie before releasing them and letting them head off with their parents again.

Phil stood in the middle of his empty tent, looking at the rolled up old sleeping bag on Clint’s cot, the ratty old duffel packed and ready next to it. Just as it’d been that morning when he woke up. Somehow, at some point, Clint had gathered up his things and snuck off on his own. He hadn’t been back for breakfast and Phil was really starting to worry about him. Especially since their rides were due to arrive at any time.

His own bags were packed, his canteen sitting atop his sleeping bag, so Phil settled himself on his cot and bit his lip, trying to figure out what he should do. He didn’t want anything to happen to Clint, but at the same time he didn’t want to rat on him for breaking Rule Number One: No Leaving Camp By Yourself And Without Notifying A Counselor. He also didn’t want to leave without saying goodbye. What kind of best friend would he be if he did that?

The flap on the tent opened, and a cheery-faced redheaded teen poked his head in to smile at Phil brightly. “Hey, Coulson! Your folks just got here. Boy, is your mom excited to see you. Want some help carrying your gear?”

Phil swallowed hard, his gray eyes darting across to Clint’s cot nervously. Worrying at his lip, he finally gave a small nod.

“Yeah. I guess. Thanks, Toby.”

“Don’t sweat it, man. Here, hook me up with the duffel and sleeping bag. You take your canteen and backpack.”

Mind still on the fact Clint was Missing In Action, Phil handed his gear over silently before he swung the bulk of his bookbag up onto his shoulder and stepped down off the tent’s wooden platform. He stopped when his feet touched dirt and turned, looking back to Clint’s things. In an instant his backpack was off his shoulder and he was tearing into it, pulling his favorite comic book out and reaching back into the tent to put it with Clint’s bag. At least it was something to remember him by.

With a heavy heart and slumped shoulders, Phillip moved through the crowd of departing campers, following Toby back towards his waiting parents. There was a bright and open smile on his mother’s face, and no doubt tears in her eyes at the thought of finally having her little boy home again. Especially since not once in three weeks had he called home, not even just to say hi on the answering machine. His father was standing next to her, arms folded over his chest and looking just as stern and foreboding as Phil remembered. No, he’d been foolish to think three weeks was enough to change the man, but he’d hoped at least.

Toby dropped Phil’s gear next to the car and smiled politely at the adults. He introduced himself as one of the counselors and crowed about how much fun Phil was to have as a camper. Never mind the fact that Phil had hardly ever interacted with Toby; he wasn’t the red team leader to begin with. Still, it made Phil’s parents smile -- even his dad -- and it made Toby look good, so that was really all that mattered.

Glancing back over his shoulder at the tents, Phil frowned. Still no sign of Clint. He was really going to have to leave without saying goodbye. With a quiet sniffle, he handed his mom his backpack to be put into the backseat while his dad loaded the rest into the trunk. He tried to answer their questions when they were asked: _“Did you have fun, sweetheart? Did you make a lot of friends?”_ Yes he had fun. And yes, he made a friend. _“Well, did you learn anything useful? Or did you read the whole time?”_ He learned lots of new things, and only read when he had time to. _“You look like you got some sunshine at least. Did you spend a lot of time swimming?”_ He spent a lot of time in the sun, but not a whole bunch swimming because Clint didn’t like being in the water all that much.

As he opened the back passenger door and got ready to climb in and wish a silent goodbye to camp, Phil heard a familiar cry over the sounds of chaos.

“PHIL! PHIL, WAIT! WAIT, PHIL! DON’T LEAVE YET! PHIL, WAIT!!”

In an instant Phil was tumbling out of the backseat, eyes wide and smile bright as Clint burst through the crowd and skidded to a halt in the dirt in front of him. There were twigs in his mussed blond-brown hair, and his shirt and face were smudged with sweat and dirt. He didn’t give Phil any time to question, or for his startled parents to react; he just grabbed the other boy’s hand and yanked him back through the campers and off towards the woods.

“You can’t leave yet! I have to show you something! It’s really important!”

“Where’ve you been? Clint! Where are we going?”

“Just shut up and c’mon! This is really important and I want you to see it before you go. You gotta see it!”

Clint yanked and pulled Phil into the woods, off the beaten path, and over to the tree they had designated as their tree. It was the best for climbing and no one else ever knew about it. Soda cans were scattered all around the bottom of the tree and Phil couldn’t help but stare at the bright green and red reflecting in the scattered sunlight.

“Where’d you get all the Mountain Dew?”

“I swiped it from the mess tent. They weren’t gonna need it!”

It was only then that Phil realized Clint was shaking and twitchy with an overload of caffeine and he silently wondered how much sleep his friend had gotten the night before after they’d finished stargazing. If any.

His guess was “none.”

Clint pulled him towards the tree and pointed to the trunk proudly. Confused, Phil turned his eyes to where Clint was pointing. A very shaky and lopsided Captain America shield was carved into the bark, complete with a very poorly drawn star in the middle. That alone was enough to make Phil grin from ear to ear, but what made his heart soar clear out of his chest? That was carved into the middle of the star.

_CFB_  
+  
PJC 

“I wanted you to see it before you left,” Clint said, his voice sounding shy as he stuffed his hands into his pockets and bounced on his toes. “Stayed up all night working on it. After you fell asleep. Wanted to make sure I had it done. Whaddya think?”

Pink was warm on his tanned cheeks and tips of his ears. Clint had carved Captain America’s shield and their initials into a tree. Just for him. It was a grand old tree, one that had clearly been around for awhile and had about hit its max circumference so Clint didn’t have to worry much about his work being grown over. Smiling brightly, Phil turned to face Clint full on.

“It’s awesome! I love it! And now every summer we come back, we can go over it again to make sure it stays there.”

“And anyone who sees it is gonna know it’s ours and that we’re best friends.”

“You bet we are.”

Biting on his lip a bit nervously, Clint continued to bounce on his toes, his wide and wild blue-green-gold eyes staring deep into Phil’s. After a quiet moment, all the energy he was forcing himself to keep back snapped. Like a tense spring being released, Clint sprang forward and smashed his lips against Phil’s in a very hard, very awkward, and very fast closed-mouth kiss.

Just as quickly as it happened, Clint sprang back again. His smile was bright but shy as he stuffed his hands back into the pockets of his jean shorts. Phil was absolutely dumbfounded. Surprised and confused.

And blushing. Definitely, definitely blushing.

It took a moment before he was able to open his mouth, ready to say something in response to what just happened, when once again his name was called.

“Phillip! Let’s go! We gotta get a move on if we wanna be in Pennsylvania by nightfall!”

Heart thumping loudly in his chest, Phil jerked his thumb over his shoulder, back towards the camp grounds and his waiting parents. Clint understood. He nodded silently, watching as Phil slowly and carefully walked backwards away from him, eyes still locked on Clint’s but a wide and happy smile plastered on his face.

“Don’t forget! When we grow up...”

“I won’t forget! Promise!” Phil finally turned to run back out to the trail and start off for the car. “Bye, Clint! I’ll see you next summer!”

“YOU BETTER!”

* * *

Phil went back to Camp Eagle Bluff the following summer, a good two inches taller and a bit leaner than the summer before. He searched the crowd of campers and waited anxiously to hear his name be called with Clint’s for tent partner.

It never was.

When Phil returned to Chicago that summer, he lamented over not having gotten Clint’s address and phone number. Over not having given his own to Clint. His mom had tried to track down the little boy for Phil, so they could call and talk to each other on the phone and Phil could send him a Christmas present, but it was hard to find an address for foster kids. Especially when all they had to go on was that his name was Clint Barton, and he had an older brother named Barney, and they lived somewhere in Iowa, but Phil couldn’t remember the name of the town right off hand.

For two more summers after that, Phil went back to Eagle Bluff.

Each summer Clint wasn’t there.

Each summer Phil climbed up into their tree to sit and stare out of the highest point, watching off into the distance in the direction he thought Iowa was in.

Each summer he stole off in the middle of the night on the last night to go back to their tree and deepen the carving on the trunk.

After the third summer without Clint, Phil stopped going back to Camp Eagle Bluff. He pushed all thoughts of it aside in order to focus on school work and, during the summer, the soccer team he’d managed to earn a place on. He didn’t have time for summer camps anymore. They were for kids, after all.

The memories of Clint were still in his head though, not nearly as fresh as they once were, but he knew he was never going to forget the first person to defend him against campground bullies. Or to be his best friend. Those wonderful, shining and sneaky blue-green eyes haunted his dreams and many nights he stared out his window and wondered where the boy was, if he’d finally gotten adopted by a good family who would love him, what he looked like, and if he was still sneaking off to swipe cans of Mountain Dew out of unsupervised mess tents somewhere.

Wondered if Clint ever still thought about him.

Heart heavy, Phil finally managed to convince himself it didn’t matter. He was never going to see his first best friend ever again. He just didn’t have that kind of luck.

* * * * * *

Nineteen-year-old Phillip J. Coulson sighed as he looked around the vast surroundings of trees and lakes and mountainsides. Everything was exactly how he remembered it. Plenty of fresh air and room for a boy to run and jump and play. To learn some new, useful skills and keep his nose out of his comic books. Which he had packed with him anyway. Just in case.

The campers wouldn’t arrive until the following morning, which gave the counselors very little time to finish getting their rosters prepared and the activities for the next few months planned out. And just enough time to introduce themselves to each other. Like the campers, the counselors were going to be sharing tents; _unlike_ the campers, though , the teen volunteers had received packets in the mail with contact information for their tentmates. Phil only knew that his was an eighteen-year-old named Francis Challand, and that he was from Trinidad, Colorado.

He really had meant to call him and at least talk for a bit before the start of camp, but, well, life happened and he simply forgot all about it. Between finishing his first year of college, turning nineteen, and convincing his parents he’d be fine to drive cross-country, he just hadn’t had the time to remember to call.

As he stepped into his tent, Phil instantly moved for the right side, backpack, sleeping bag and duffel dropping onto the cot that would be his bed for the next few months. The cot across the way was still empty and for a brief moment Phil felt a twinge of pain at the memories of a little boy who had once upon a time slept in a cot on that side of the tent. Shaking his head, he moved to set up his cot and stuff his extra shoes and a pair of hiking boots under it, everything in a nice and neat order. At least for the moment.

A bag dropped suddenly to the floor, followed by a sharp curse. His eyes shot to the tent opening just in time to watch another teen pick himself up, dust off his jeans, and throw his backpack immediately to the left.

“Fuck,” the new teen cursed, hopping up onto the platform and throwing himself down on the bed, hand holding his knee for a moment.

“You okay?”

“Yeah. Just tripped. We’re good.” The other young man lifted his head and flashed a bright smile at Phil in greeting. His hair was sunkissed blond, the roots a darker brown than the rest, and it hung down loosely in front of his bright blue eyes. “You PJ?”

Phil nodded. He’d started going by the initials when he left for college. It was silly but, well, he was trying to make a fresh start by going to college and as he’d been wanting to go by PJ most of his life, he decided that leaving home was a good time to start.

“Yeah. Francis, I take it?”

“One and only. Nice to meet ya. Looks like we’re gonna be bunkmates for a while, huh?”

A slow smile started to spread across Phil’s face as he nodded again and turned his attention back to unpacking. “Looks like it. Hey, sorry about not calling or anything before today. I’ve been pretty busy with life going nuts.”

“No worries. Wouldn’t have gotten us at that number anyway. Moved to California about three months ago.” Francis stood and started to unpack his own things.

“Oh?” Phil’s ears perked at that, his smile growing. “I’m living out in California now too. I go to school in Valencia. CalArts.”

Francis’s head shot around, his eyes wide and a bright smile on his own face. “No kidding? I live in Santa Clarita! I drive by CalA all the time. How you like it there?”

“It’s incredible. A major culture change from what I’m used to, but it’s great.”

“Heh. Tell me about it. I think California’s a culture shock to anyone not originally from there.” There was something familiar about the sneaky little twinkle that flashed through Francis’s eyes as he shot a grin over his shoulder to Phil. He told himself it was only familiar because he’d used that same look so many times in his character drawings, but even that wasn’t enough to settle the feeling that it was more than just that.

The pair finished unpacking their things and headed off to the mess tent together, talking about California and the things they liked best and least about living there. They both agreed the earthquakes sucked and were pretty scary, but were nothing that they couldn’t handle. Most times.

They sat beside each other during the welcoming meeting for the counselors and as they filled out all the proper paperwork that needed to be finished. Phil learned that Francis wasn’t actually going to be one of the “team leaders”, but was there instead to teach the kids archery and take them hiking from time to time. Phil himself was there as a team leader and also to help out with the arts and crafts section when the area was overloaded.

Once the campers arrived the next morning, the pair had to go into work mode and part ways. Unlike when Phil was ten, he wasn’t able to spend every moment of every day with his tentmate. Instead, he caught sight of Francis while Phil’s campers were busy working on their projects. They would exchange quick smiles and nods before heading separate ways again. And still there was something about him that made Phil feel as if he knew him from somewhere before. There was a look that Francis gave him sometimes during breaks and at night while they were hanging out in their tent that told him maybe the feeling was mutual, even if neither of them was going to say anything about it.

Despite not being able to spend much time together, they still managed to strike up a strong friendship through the weeks. They sat together at meal times, sitting at the back tables and surrounded by the other counselors so they could keep an eye on their campers, laughing and telling jokes and poking fun at each other; during camp fires they both took turns telling the ghost stories. Once or twice when it was Phil’s team’s turn for hiking, Francis was their guide. It was strange tagging along for the hikes and following paths he and Clint had once stomped down, and every once in awhile it seemed as if he was being thrown looks that asked _recognize this? Remember this place?_

Their talks were always full of plans and ideas for the future. Phil told about his goal to finish at CalArts and go on to work as either an animator or storyboard artist for Warner Brothers or possibly Disney if he could make the cut. Francis told about what it was like finishing the last three months of high school in an entirely different state and how difficult it had been for him. They both discussed a shared love for comic books and Marvel movies, and Francis admitted that it was because of the animated Disney movie _Robin Hood_ that he got into archery. They talked about current events and what Francis might do after the summer was ended. They even made plans for Francis to ride back to California with Phil since he’d flown out to begin with.

As the days went on, Phil found himself thinking more and more about Francis. About the way the sun played off his hair and the way his lean muscles flexed under golden skin. He watched the way the other teen worked with the kids and how his eyes sparkled and twinkled when he laughed. The way the teen tossed him small, shy smiles whenever he caught Phil watching him, and the way the feather-light brushes Francis gave anytime they passed by each other sent shivers racing down his spine. There wasn’t a doubt in Phil’s mind that he was attracted to the other counselor. Who wouldn’t be? The guy was the hottest thing around. And if the soft smiles and touches were anything to go by, then Francis was at least a little bit attracted to him. Why? He couldn’t begin to figure out. It wasn’t like he was going to be winning any beauty competitions. Phil had stopped growing a year or two before, topping out at a couple inches shy of six feet. His limbs were lanky but at least somewhat toned from his years of playing soccer, and his dark brown hair was still wispy and flyaway and really impossible to do anything with except comb it off to the side or let it hang down over his forehead a bit.

There were times during the few months they worked together when the two of them wanderedoff together and for a little while Phil felt like he was that little ten year old again going on adventures with his newfound best friend. It felt strange and exciting to him that he had once again managed to make a best friend at summer camp. And under circumstances at least similar to how he’d become such good friends with Clint. There were also times while he and Francis were together that he’d sit and just watch the teen, that itchy feeling in the back of his head telling him that a certain eye roll was far too much like Clint’s had been, or that the way Francis carried on about his plans for the future held the same innocent wistfulness that he remembered from their talk under the stars their last night together. And as much as he longed to know whatever happened to Clint, hanging out with Francis and getting to know him seemed to make those thoughts and pains lessen if not disappear altogether.

As the end of the season approached, Phil found himself sitting on the edge of the dock overlooking the glassy lake. The campers had long since gone to bed, even though he could catch the occasional snicker or yelp from a tent. He was feeling restless, needing the time by the water to collect his thoughts and prepare himself for the long drive back to California. At least on the way back he’d have company.

“Hey. You’re thinkin’ loud enough I heard you clear across the campground.”

Phil turned his head at the familiar voice. Smiling softly, he chuckled and moved to lay across the wood planks, legs still dangling off the edge. Francis settled himself next to Phil, following his example and laying back with him to look up at the stars.

“Just thinking about the first time I came to camp here. I was ten. A total dweeb. Made my very first best friend here though. You actually remind me a lot of him.” Phil huffed a half laugh as he tucked his hands under his head. “And like an idiot I never got an address for him or gave him mine when the three weeks were up.”

Francis swung his foot to knock against Phil’s.

“Well, at least we already exchanged cell phone numbers. And you’re kind of my ride back to California, so you don’t have to worry about being an idiot again. Besides that, I know where you go to school. I would track your ass down in a heartbeat.”

The moonlight shone down brightly onto Francis’s face, making his bright eyes sparkle in a way Phil hadn’t seen in years. Lying there looking at him, he’d swear the other teen was Clint all grown up. There was so much about his smile and eyes that made him think back nine years prior, to when he’d agreed to marry his best friend once they’d grown up.

_“Yeah, okay. But, definitely going to have to be after we grow up. I don’t think my folks would like it too much if I married you right now.”_

_“Now who’s being silly? I don’t wanna get married right now. But once we grow up. Like, when we’re nineteen or something. Cuz that’s grown up, right?”_

_“I think so.”_

_“Good. Then once we grow up.”_

_Phil nodded in agreement._

_“Once we grow up.”_

Swallowing hard at that memory, Phil turned his head to quickly look back up at the stars silently. It was ridiculous to feel as if he was somehow betraying Clint by having feelings for Francis. He’d only known Clint for less than a month. Plus, he’d been ten at the time. No one met the person they were going to marry when they were that young, right? Stuff like that only happened in the movies.

His lips were rolled together and his heart thumped wildly in his chest. He didn’t say another word for a long time.

“Hey, PJ?”

“Yeah?”

“When we get back to California, would you like to go on a date with me?”

Blinking, he turned his head to look at Francis again. His mouth felt like cotton and he swore his heart was getting ready to leap out of his chest. Phil had known he was gay for a long time; he just hadn’t had much experience in the dating department. None of the guys back in Chicago had ever held his interest for very long, and the ones at school were a bit too strange and artsy even for him. Now, Francis was lying there next to him, in positions so very similar to that summer night so many years ago, asking him on a date. In the back of his mind there was that ten-year-old’s voice telling him that he’d made a promise to Clint, and Phillip J. Coulson had never once broken a promise. And yet, he still found himself nodding.

“Yeah. I’d love to.”

Francis’s smile was nearly as bright as the moon as he nodded and looked back up to the stars.

“Y’know, I never asked you where you’re originally from.” He asked after a moment of silence had fallen between them. Phil smiled and huffed softly. All that time spent together and they hadn’t even thought to discuss things as trivial as where they’d originally come from.

“Chicago. Born, raised, hated every minute of it.”

There was a quiet hum next to him, one that had Phil turning his head to look back at Francis and knitting his brows together. It was obvious the other was trying to keep from smiling, and was only doing half a good job of it. He wanted to ask what was so funny, why the teen was trying to keep from laughing, but he didn’t get the chance. In a roll turned push up, Francis was back on his feet, hands stuffed in his pockets as he bounced on his toes and looked down at Phil.

“It’s gettin’ pretty late. And chilly. Don’t stay out too late or you’ll wind up sick. And colds in summer suck ass.” He grinned a bit more and gave one last bounce before he turned to start back off down the dock.

“I’m headin’ to bed. See ya in the mornin’, PJ. Gonna be a helluva day.”

Phil sat up and turned, pulling his legs up onto the dock to watch Francis’ back disappear around a line of tents and head off towards the counselors’ area. There was something way too familiar about what just happened. He just really wished he could figure out what it was.

Well, actually, he knew what it was. It was just so very impossible.

Or maybe, rather, _improbable_.

He _really_ just didn’t have that kind of luck.

* * *

The following morning, Phil woke up to the strangest feeling of deja vu. The cot across from him was empty. The sleeping bag was rolled up and placed carefully next to an old backpack and duffel bag, and for the umpteenth time he had to shake his head and tell himself it wasn’t possible. It was all some weird and crazy coincidence. Francis was Francis. Not Clint.

Quickly pushing all thoughts aside, Phil packed up his own gear so he was ready to sign out and get on the road as soon as the last camper took off. It was a long trip back to California, and he wanted to make sure he and Francis got as much ground covered as they possibly could before it got too late and they had to stop for the night or switch drivers.

Pick-up day was every bit as chaotic as Phil remembered it being back when he was younger. Campers ran around frantically, parents waited against cars impatiently or watched in amusement as their sons tackled each other one last time before parting ways. Bags were tossed in the air and over heads to buddies who had been looking for them; others engaged in friendly games of keep-away just to try to prolong the inevitable. It was hard to see the campers go, and Phil shook more fathers’ hands and smiled at more mothers than he’d ever thought he would. At any time.

Through it all, Francis was nowhere in sight.

As the last camper waved his goodbye and disappeared around the bend in the now-paved driveway, Phil heaved a heavy sigh of relief, and turned to start back for his tent. Francis’ things were still sitting on his cot, untouched, and Phil couldn’t help but wonder where the teen had taken off to and when. He grabbed at his backpack, digging around in the side pocket for the Swiss Army knife he’d brought with him, and held it in his palm as he turned to head off into the woods.

It was a trail he hadn’t gone down since he was thirteen, but one he still remembered like the back of his hand. As he moved a little way off the beaten path, he couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face. Their tree was still standing, just as he remembered it from the last time he’d visited it to deepen the carving that Clint had put there all those years ago.

He circled around the tree, fingers running over the rough bark and smiled softly as he reached the shield. And froze.

The carving was bright and wet from being redone. Recently. As in within hours of Phil coming out to take care of it himself. Someone had already beaten him to it. He stood there staring at the freshly carved shield, the marks deep and sure, steadier this time than the last time around. In the middle of the star, the initials remained.

_CFB  
PJC_

Only instead of a plus sign as there’d been for the past nine years, there was a small, carved out heart. His hand shaking, Phil reached out to touch the letters. Letters he knew so very well.

“PJ Coulson,” a voice said from above him just as his fingers connected with the _C_ for Clint’s name.

Startled, Phil yanked his hand back and looked up. There, dangling from a branch by his knees, was Francis. His face and shirt were smudged with sweat and dirt and his legs were exposed by a worn pair of jean shorts. Phil’s heart stopped and his breath caught in his throat.

“P. J. C.” Francis smirked as he punctuated each letter. “Phillip. J. Coulson. I’m right. Aren’t I?”

Phil swallowed hard and nodded dumbly.

Still smirking, Francis flipped himself back up and around, his arms flexing as he slowly lowered himself branch by branch until he dropped down to stand just inches in front of Phil. That close, Phil could see the blue and green and gold swirled into the other’s eyes.

“You didn’t forget after all, huh?”

“I...I don’t...what...”

“You made me a promise, y’know. A long time ago. Back when we were just kids. Back when I was a punk who wore a goofy purple hat with an H on it and taught you how to fight back against bullies. Remember what you promised?”

Phil couldn’t breathe, couldn’t speak. His heart was racing a mile a minute and his lungs didn’t seem to want to function properly either. All he could do was nod. He remembered exactly what he’d promised.

“We stood right here, by this tree, on the last day of camp.” Clint’s voice dipped -- because it was! It was Clint! And oh God how had it taken him that long to realize it!? -- as he slowly moved his face closer, giving Phil plenty of time to step back and stop him, “right after I’d kissed you, and you promised you wouldn’t forget that when we grew up, we were gonna get married.”

Phil licked his lips and opened his mouth, his words coming out in a rough whisper.

“I don’t think my folks would like it too much if I married you right now.”

The corners of Clint’s eyes crinkled and that sneaky spark returned to the sea of colors Phil was currently drowning in as Clint grinned from ear to ear. He reached out, grabbed Phil behind the head, and pulled him in for a hard, age-appropriate kiss. Lips mashed together for only a moment before parting so tongues could poke out to cautiously explore and meet for the first time. It was a kiss Phil had been waiting far too long for.

As Clint pulled back, his grip firm but gentle on the nape of Phil’s neck, Phil took a deep breath and rested his forehead against Clint’s.

“How...when did you...”

“Not sure what you’re askin’ but, if it’s when did I figure it out you were you? About two weeks ago. Came into the tent and your sketchbook was laying out on your bed. One picture had PJC written in the corner. When you said you were from Chicago last night, it just confirmed what I had kind of already figured out,” Clint explained. His hand came around to rest on Phil’s cheek, the thumb brushing lightly over the nineteen-year-old’s cheekbone.

Phil pulled back suddenly, eyes wide and an indignant look on his face. “When did you change your name?” Clint probably shouldn’t have laughed, but he did.

“I didn’t change it. I just go by my middle name now. Mostly. My records and everything here all says Clinton F. on it.” Clint shrugged and blushed. “I got adopted, few months after I got back from camp the first time. They let me take their last name. I didn’t really wanna remember my dad or even my brother -- not after I found out all the stupid things he’d done -- so I asked if they could call me Francis … and they did. It just, kinda stuck.”

Phil swallowed hard and just stared at Clint. Like he was seeing him for the very first time.

“My mom tried to find you. I was so upset with myself cuz I was an idiot. I didn’t...I had no way to find you. And then I came back here three summers in a row and you weren’t here, so I just stopped coming back.”

“Jack and Stacy couldn’t afford for me to fly out here for camp. I went to ones closer to home. Then we moved to Colorado...and...God, Phil I’ve missed you. I thought about you all the time. I tried to find you a few times but, didn’t know your parents’ names and there’s actually a surprising amount of Coulsons in the Chicagoland area.”

Phil huffed a watery laugh as he nodded, moving to hug Clint, his first and best friend, for the very first time. It was strange that they’d shared a cot as kids, held hands, and even kissed, but had never hugged. Now, holding him tight in his arms, Phil never wanted to let go, and from the way Clint was holding on, the feeling was very mutual.

“Y’know,” Clint’s breath was warm and sweet against his neck, “It’s not so wrong for boys to marry boys in California anymore. They kind of tossed out that stupid Prop 8, and I turn nineteen in a little under a year, and you did promise...”

Another laugh shook through Phil, and he held him tighter.

“Let’s grow up a little bit more, first, okay?”

“And once we grow up?”

“Once we grow up. Promise.”

* * * Epilogue * * *

Eight-year-old CJ Coulson sighed as he looked around the vast surroundings of trees and lakes and mountainsides. That’s how his dads had described it at least. Plenty of fresh air and room for a boy to run and jump and play. To learn some new, useful skills to add to the ones he’d already learned. He just wasn’t sure why he had to go clear across the country to do it. All his friends were going to camps in California. But, his dads had made a big deal about Camp Eagle Bluff, so he couldn’t not go.

Turning his bright blue eyes up to his Pop, he frowned. “I don’t see what I could learn here that I couldn’t back home.”

Clint smirked and reached his hand out, swatting down the brim of CJ’s red ball cap and giving him a gentle push to the shoulder. “It’s an adventure. How many of your friends back home got to say they flew clear across the country--”

“--and it was boring and uncomfortable the whole time.” CJ grumbled against his father’s explanation.

“--And that they got to go to the same camp their dads went to?” Clint finished, an eyebrow raised and his easy half-smile still playing on his face.

Phil pressed his lips together, biting off a smile, as he glanced over the hood of the trunk, watching his son and husband quip back and forth at each other. His hands shoved the hood down and he smiled as he dropped his old duffel bag down to the ground next to CJ’s feet and put a hand on his shoulder. The little boy looked so much like Clint did at that age. It was amazing and he loved it to no end.

“We’ll roadtrip home, how’d that be? Prolong your summer vacation by a couple of days and let you see some of the states a bit better? Won’t be quite as uncomfortable anyway.”

The boy nodded as he picked his backpack up and swung it over his shoulder with a huff.

“Yeah, okay. But...I don’t know anybody here.”

His voice sounded small and unsure for the first time since they’d announced he’d be going away to camp that summer. Clint’s smirk grew as he looked to Phil and slipped his arm around his husband’s waist, silver wedding band glittering in the bright sunlight. They shared a quiet moment just looking at each other before looking back to their son.

“That’s the great thing about camp, Ceege. You meet all kinds of new people. And hey, you might even meet your new best friend here. Who knows?” Phil smiled, giving Clint a slight squeeze and getting a smirk and kiss on the cheek in return.

CJ’s eyes couldn’t possibly roll any further back into his head as he grabbed up his borrowed duffel, his new red sleeping bag, and the canteen he’d been given. Maybe spending three weeks away from his folks wouldn’t be so bad after all. Before he could turn to scoot away, two hands grabbed his arms and pulled him back in, smooshing him between bodies and squeezing him in a tight group hug.

Breaking free from their hold, CJ stumbled backwards out of their reach, a huge grin on his face and sneaky twinkle in his eyes as he waved and said his goodbye. He was a lot braver than Phil had been the first time he’d been dropped off at Camp Eagle Bluff, and had a much better attitude than Clint had had, too.

Looking out over the landscape, thirty-five year old Phil Coulson sighed. The lake was still the same, but a large portion of the forest had been taken out to make room for more tents and a bigger, more permanent mess hall. Just on the edge of the clearing was a large tree, one that no doubt would be taken down sometime in the future to make room for even more campers to be brought in, but it was a tree Phil would know anywhere.

“Think we should go embarrass him even more and make sure our carving is still there?” Clint murmured, his breath brushing over Phil’s neck gently.

Phil smirked, holding Clint’s hand tightly in his as he shook his head.

“Nah.” Bringing Clint’s hand to his lips, he kissed his knuckles gently before releasing them and turning to climb back into the driver’s seat of the rental car. Three weeks without Clinton James were going to fly by, and Phil was determined to spend as much time as possible with his husband while their son was gone.

Glancing over his shoulder one last time, he grinned a bit more, looking across the car to Clint. “We’ll check it on pick-up day and fix it as needed. It’s our tree. Gotta make sure nobody forgets it.”

“Yeah, pretty sure we’re the only ones who won’t.”

“True. C’mon. Let’s go do grown-up things.”

Clint’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “I like doing grown-up things.”

Phil laughed, smiling brightly as he shook his head and started the car. From the rear view mirror he could just make out their son’s red hat as he stood at the edge of the crowd and watched them leave. Arm out the window, Phil waved as the car pulled off down the drive and disappeared around the bend of the mountain road.


End file.
